Fine, I Admit It!

Fech... I've been in denial for 10 years, but it's now so abundantly clear after a Sunday afternoon in a place more estrogen-laden than the David's Bridal 50%-off sale. I'm friggin Miranda. And it's not a distressing thought just because she's everyone's least favorite, her fire engine red hair is nauseating, or that her teeth may be worse than Kirsten Dundst's...

Now comfortably in my fourth decade, I've become woefully honest with myself. (Or maybe I finally listened after years of the sibs telling me how abjectly priggish I am). Miranda is an uptight, know-it-all. She's quick to judge. Yeah, yeah, she's a good friend, and smart and talented and all, but still... gross, that reflection in the mirror is uh-ugh-ly. But admitting you have a problem is the first step.

At least the movie was highly entertaining. No, it won't change your life. But it won't make you hate it, either. Plus, there's a shit joke in there... something, even, for the boys.